"Legally, there are complications."
"Soon-to-be-forr husband," Andrion clarified.
"But Milan’s right. Intervening in what’s technically a dostic dispute between nobles can create legal and political complications. Especially for you, given your current situation."
Jolthar watched as Tyren continued to grip Elsona’s arm, his other hand gesturing aggressively as he berated her about the separation, about her ’coldness,’ and about how she was ruining both their reputations with this public split.
"They’ve been going through this for months," Milan continued quietly.
"Tyren is from a wealthy family that had so success but squandered it through poor decisions and gambling. He married Elsona for her family’s connections and wealth. When she tried to leave after years of... well, let’s call it mistreatnt... he’s been tornting her at every opportunity."
"He shows up wherever she goes," Andrion added.
"Makes scenes, tries to pressure her into reconciliation. It’s pathetic and cruel, but because they’re still legally married, there’s little she can do except endure it until the separation is finalized."
"How long until that happens?" Jolthar asked, his eyes never leaving the scene across the street.
"Could be weeks, could be months," Milan said.
"These things move slowly, especially when one party is being deliberately obstructive."
Tyren had moved closer to Elsona now, his voice rising.
"You think you’re better than ? You think you can just cast aside like I’m nothing? I made you who you are!"
"You made yourself nothing," Elsona replied, and despite her composed exterior, Jolthar could hear the pain in her voice.
"Now, please, Tyren. People are watching."
"Let them watch!" Tyren shouted.
"Let them see what kind of woman abandons her husband! What kind of cold, heartless—"
He didn’t finish the sentence because Elsona pulled her arm free with surprising strength and stepped back.
"I’m done with this conversation, and I’m done with you."
She turned and walked into the boutique, her assistant following quickly.
Tyren stood there for a mont, his face flushed with anger and humiliation, before storming off in the opposite direction.
The street slowly returned to normal, though whispers and pointed looks followed both parties.
Jolthar stood there, sothing uncomfortable churning in his chest. He had just watched a woman, this extraordinary woman who had sohow captured his attention so completely, be harassed and degraded publicly, and he had done nothing.
It felt wrong.
Deeply wrong.
"I know what you’re thinking," Milan said gently.
"But trust , getting involved in their separation would make things worse for everyone, including her."
"For now," Jolthar said quietly, still looking at the boutique where Elsona had disappeared.
"For now," Milan agreed.
Andrion was watching Jolthar with renewed interest.
"Well, well. This is interesting. The invincible baron, the man who defeated an imperial princess, was brought low by a single glance at a married woman."
He grinned.
"Careful, Jolthar. That path leads to complications that make political enemies look simple by comparison."
"I’m aware," Jolthar said.
But he also knew, with sudden certainty, that he would see Elsona again.
And when he did, things would be different.
Sohow, he would make sure of that.
*
The Streets of Cahns’ar
Jolthar forced himself to turn away from the boutique where Elsona had disappeared.
The image of her face, composed despite the humiliation, dignified despite the pain, was burned into his mind.
But Milan was right.
Getting involved in noble marriage disputes while he was already under imperial scrutiny would be foolish.
That didn’t an he had to like it.
"Co on," Andrion said cheerfully, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
"There’s a good wine bar three streets over that imports from the southern vineyards. Best vintage in the capital. Let’s sample so and forget about complicated won for a while."
"Says the man who thrives on complications," Milan observed dryly.
"True, but I’m selective about which complications I embrace," Andrion replied with a grin. He looped his arm through Jolthar’s in a familiar gesture.
Jolthar winced as he tilted his head towards Milan, who was shaking his head already. They had no choice but to follow Andrion, as he wasn’t leaving anyti soon.
"And right now, I think our new friend could use sothing pleasant after witnessing that scene."
They walked through the rchant district, Andrion keeping up a steady stream of comntary about various shops, scandals, and interesting characters they passed. Milan occasionally corrected his brother’s more outrageous embellishnts, and gradually Jolthar found himself relaxing, letting the princes’ banter wash over him.
But in the back of his mind, he was thinking about eternal beauty and erald dresses and a woman who deserved better than what she was enduring.
*
The Golden Pagoda - Imperial Administrative District
In a different part of Cahns’ar, far from the comrcial energy of the rchant district, stood a structure that represented the bureaucratic heart of the empire. This part of the city was quieter, and the buildings too; they looked quite classy and extravagant.
Amongst the variant buildings, one of them stood out with its tall, tower-like structure.
The Golden Pagoda was actually made of real gold; from the bottom to the top, inside out, everything was made using gold, and the tower consisted of seven stories. Each level housed different administrative departnts that kept the vast machinery of imperial governance running.
The highest floor, reserved for only the most senior officials, was where the true power resided.
Finance Minister Richardus and Justiciar Halvren walked through corridors of polished marble, their footsteps echoing in the austere space. Both n wore expressions of controlled anxiety. The summons they had received had been polite but unmistakable; the Pri Minister wanted to see them imdiately.
They reached a set of ornate doors guarded by two officials in ceremonial robes. The guards opened the doors without a word, and the two ministers entered.
The chamber beyond was designed to intimidate through simplicity. No excessive decoration, just clean lines, perfect proportions, and an atmosphere of absolute authority. Behind a massive desk of dark wood sat the man they had co to see.
Pri Minister Bahste Fatler was perhaps sixty years old, though he looked ageless in the way so n do when their minds are so sharp that their bodies seem almost incidental. He was thin, almost ascetic in appearance, with silver hair cut short and eyes that were pale gray, the color of winter ice. His face was pleasant, even kind-looking, which made the intelligence behind those eyes all the more unsettling.
He was the head of all ministers, the Emperor’s right hand in matters of governance, and arguably the second most powerful person in the entire empire. And he was also, by several accounts whispered only in the most private circles, completely psychotic beneath his civilized exterior.
"Minister Richardus. Justiciar Halvren."
Bahste’s voice was soft, cultured, and pleasant.
"Please, sit."
They sat in the chairs positioned before his desk, perfectly comfortable chairs that sohow made both n feel like children called before a master.
"I’ve been reading the most fascinating reports," Bahste continued, steepling his fingers.
"About trials and arrests and battles outside city walls. It’s been quite the entertaining week in Cahns’ar, hasn’t it?"
"Your Excellency," Richardus began carefully, "we can explain—"
"I’m sure you can."
Bahste’s smile was gentle.
"In fact, I’m quite curious to hear your perspective on how a simple arrest of a young man on legitimate charges escalated into said boy publicly defying the imperial court, defeating the Commander of the Dreadmarchen in single combat, and remaining free while making implicit threats against imperial authority."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Do enlighten ."
Halvren cleared his throat nervously.
"The baron proved to be more... problematic than anticipated. When confronted with the charges, he showed no respect for the court or its authority. He released his aura within the city, causing damage and panic. And when Princess Tamnarasi attempted to arrest him, he fought back with excessive force."
"Excessive force," Bahste repeated thoughtfully.
"Is that what we’re calling it now?"
"He could have surrendered," Richardus interjected.
"The princess was acting within her legal authority. Instead, he chose violence and rebellion."
"After you orchestrated a trial with insufficient notice and questionable legal standing," Bahste observed mildly.
"After you compressed a five-day preparation period into hours. After you leveraged your influence to secure charges that were... let’s be honest, gentlen... politically motivated rather than justice-driven."
Both n shifted uncomfortably.
"Your Excellency," Richardus said, "we were attempting to address a genuine threat. Jolthar Kaezhlar executed a sitting nobleman without authorization. That’s murder, regardless of the victim’s cris. And his financial irregularities suggest—"
"Suggest that he’s competent at managing resources and securing investnt," Bahste interrupted, his tone still pleasant.
"Which is hardly a cri, though I understand why it might concern a finance minister who has grown accustod to controlling who prospers and who doesn’t."
Richardus’s face flushed slightly.
"That’s not—"
Bahste raised a hand, and Richardus fell silent imdiately. The gesture was small, but the authority behind it was absolute.
User Comments
0 comments from readers